Violet Memories
by Darkwarrior1010
Summary: He had come to the theater to seek out the cursed sword of his ancestors. What he found left him in far deeper secrets and trouble than he would've imagined. However, there was certainly something amusingly interesting to be found in the theater's inhabitants themselves!
1. Introduction

Gammon gave his characteristic sigh, his eyes rolling at the spoiled girl in front of him. "You realize you are called Waiter for a reason, right?" he asked her.

She just gave a simple shrug and smirked, staring back up at him with mischievous blue eyes. "I don't know, it doesn't matter anyway—I just don't want to do it."

Gammon had to do this every day. It seemed today was no exception. He raised an eyebrow at her, "so that means I have to do it right?"

She giggled and nodded back, "Yup!" Her gaze was clear as it stayed locked with his, and she spoke haughtily. "That is the whole reason I helped you live, remember?"

To which Gammon responded with another sigh. When he came here to break his curse it wasn't supposed to lead to staying in a theater of demons and being put to work by a Waitron. But life didn't usually work how it was supposed to for anyone, especially Gammon.

He gifted Waiter with a dull blink and an exasperated look. And by the looks the girl's expression; Waiter didn't like it. "So what did you need me to do?" Gammon asked.

The vessel squeaked with a triumphant noise and handed him a dustpan and broom. She brimmed with pride that befit her sin as she realized she had won again. "You need to dust and sweep the whole theater. Thanks, Gardener!" she winked at him and scurried off to go relax, not even bothering to address him with his real name.

He shook his head at her and glanced down at the tools he had been given. Well, he lost again, as usual, And he didn't really have a choice now, so Gammon turned and walked away—dragging the dustpan and broom with him.

* * *

Gammon panted as the tools were put away. The amount of work it took to clean the entire theater equaled nearly all the hours of the day, but it was finally done! At least, he thought it had taken all day. .. it was hard to tell in the theater, and the forest was so thick that little sunlight came to the bottom anyway. He moved swiftly to stash them away despite his weariness and thought about the history of the place.

The theater, built by a sinner and now inhabited by sinners. Centuries had gone by, building up history and emotion, and unknown to the builder of the place—those centuries would come to one great, and final end here.

He came to a stop as he noticed the door to his room in front of him. He entered and scanned the rather plain place, looking for only one object.

"The Venom Sword…" he murmured, gently touching the ornate weapon. Once the material vessel for lust, and the katakana once used by his ancestor. Did Venomania know what his contract with a demon would lead to? As he pondered over the idea he missed a knock on the door, which also resulted in him missing a certain blonde creeping up behind him and slapping him in the back of the head.

"Are you done sweeping it?" it was the same snobby voice, but it was subtly different… with a somber understone.

"Yes Waiter, I finished not long ago." He shoved away her hand lightly and glared at her in annoyance.

"Good," she said in a satisfied tone, raising her chin in an attempt to seem above him, but it only made Gammon want to laugh at the sight. "Now, you can make dinner too!" That ruined it, and he heaved out another sigh.

_More chores? _"Very well, but if I might ask, why is it so important for me to even bother don't really eat? It seems like only me and Ma do."

"-Don't forget the Master of the Graveyard!" Waiter added, tilting her head to the side.

"The Master of the Graveyard eats everything though, even intruders," he said dryly. He watched as the girl shrugged.

"It's something that brings the theater together I guess… not that dining with those lackeys is preferable." He could pick up the sadder tones of her voice, even though she still sounded haughtier than anything else. Why did it seem like something was up?

He couldn't just ask Waiter, she'd be too stubborn to admit that something was wrong. He'd have to wring it out of her. "Everyone here is at least some kind of company. Solitude is never good for anyone, they may be insane or cruel, but I'll take them over no one at all." Gammon tried to make his words sound as careless and light as air.

But she still stiffened and Gammon knew that he had hit is target. Now, there was only one more question to answer: _is she lonely? _

"Pfft—no one here is worthy of my attention," she pushed against Gammon even though he didn't budge. "Nobody here has the sort of connection or competence required to be a companion of any kind," she said with an arrogant smirk. But her blue eyes still glowed with something that betrayed her indignant mood.

That's when Gammon could empathize. After all, that's one of the things they both had in common. They had both lost someone important to them. The ex-soldier knew exactly what it was like to have lost a person who was your family.

"I'm sure your missing one will come back some day Waiter," he started lightly, although his words hardened with a memory that came up. That of his brother. "I, however, don't have that possibility to look forward to," he whispered to her as he left the room to perform his new chore. He heard her gasp behind him, but didn't turn to look to see if she was leaving too or looking at him.

* * *

"Ouch!" he spat, and turned his shaking hand away from the pot. The stew bubbled and boiled inside, and filling the air with a hearty aroma. Gammon hastily splashed cold water on his burn caused by the drops of scalding water that stroked his hand and began spooning the meaty soup into a few bowls. He turned and handed the filled bowls to Waiter who; thankfully, was actually doing her job for once.

"So you _do _know what your name is," he said as she accepted the bowls.

She served him a burning glare before turning and walking out the door. Gammon followed closely behind her. It actually surprised him a bit when he noticed Waiter, she never actually well… waited.

Then she stopped in front of him and he pause; he would hear what she had to say.

"My feelings are undoubtedly stronger than yours, for you may know my past Gammon. But you will never know how I _felt_." Gammon's eyes widened as she continued. "I am, however, grateful for your understanding." The sincerity in her voice rendered him speechless throughout the whole moment. She used his name… and thanked him for once.

"Well, are you coming idiot?" Gammon shook his head both to clear his surprise and show his exasperation at what she called him. But looked at her standing a few feet in front of him and hurried forward.

_I am, however, grateful for your understanding._

Gammon found his seat and bowed his head to each of the others in the room. The master of the Graveyard's annoyed expression, the Master of the Court's appraising gaze, the servant's uncontrollable giggling as they sat on both sides of their glutton master. Even Gear was there, sitting between the Master of the Court and Ma. His face remained impassive and emotionless. Ma appeared intrigued by the dinner, as it wasn't something that happened often. Then, the capricious sorceress spoke.

"About time the two of you got here. I'm rather hungry tonight." Her gaze flashed around the table, stopping to linger on each other resident for a few moments before passing to the next person—although her gaze lingered on Waiter and Gammon the longest.

"Yes, quite! Food is not something that should be dragged out," the Master of the Graveyard said with a frown.

"Is this really necessary though?" Gear inquired, as he stared at the stew with dull blue eyes. "Most of us have no need to eat."

The Sin Vessels were odd creatures, they did not need Human food to eat, but they were living and mortal like a Human. Even the Master of the Graveyard ate only because she wanted to, no longer because she was hungry.

Gammon thought about it, and then cleared his throat to speak. His actions quieted the table, leaving him free to speak. "Please, everyone, no fighting." Seeing that the other residents were starting at him silently, with either intrigue or boredom or annoyance in their eyes, Gammon continued. "We are here not just for the food, but because of this Hellish Yard of a place together."

He glanced around the table another time, then stood up. "While many of us here are nothing more than demons, we all remember the past: the ones that treated our vessels horrible. Remember though, at one point all of you were one, now you're almost completely reunited. This is the one time of the day, that we put away our inner ambitions and just savor the fact that no matter what Utopia is or what our past was—we're together now, as long as it takes."

After that, Gammon quickly sat down, pessimistic thoughts quickly flooding his mind. He tilted his head towards the stew and let his dark hair cover his face. He hadn't expected for his words to take any effect. And by the sounds of it, it didn't as the people around him said nothing and just started eating.

That's when Gammon noticed; they were eating. It didn't really matter that they were as tentative as mice doing so, he exhaled a sigh of relief and thought he saw a certain yellow haired waitron looking at him with surprise, but even she was eating.

The table was silent as everyone ate, except for the Master of the Graveyard, whom devoured her food as voraciously and noisily as her sinner Banica used to. The sight would have been sickening if it weren't for Gammon having seen worse.

He leaned down to his bowl and started eating as well. _These people are full of surprises. _


	2. Practice

**So I'm starting to do something different with my writing, from now on I'll pretty much only release chapters of a story when it's completely done. And seeing as this fic is not fully done, this is the last chapter you can expect from me in awhile, at least for this fic.**

**Anyway, please read and enjoy!**

* * *

Gammon offered a grunt to the air as the wood planks below splintered and plummeted to the ground beneath his sword. Sighing, he lifted the plain steel weapon and scrutinized it. Dust and dullness didn't matter to him on a simple training sword like this one; however, a scratch would mean that he would require a new one. Thankfully as he turned the sword in his hand it was free of flaws and Gammon strode over to the side of the dimly-lit room to the sword rack.

He eyed the assortment of blades. They were all rather plain and unadorned, but of high quality steel with sturdy hilts. But none of him were the Venom Sword vessel that his ancestors wielded.

"Couldn't you have done anything more impressive?" a girl whined. Gammon had to turn around—then look down—to see her blue eyes that swirled with annoyance stare back up.

"I was just testing the sword and my control of strength. I am not here to entertain you Waiter."

She yawned, "Of course you are." She swayed softly, as if the action would entertain her and Gammon rolled his eyes. "Isn't that kind of stuff behind you anyway? I thought you were skilled with all swords."

"There's only so much training someone can do without a training partner, not to mention the lack of space required to have a full out sparring match," he stated, with little emotion seeping out. The theater had been made with many things, but a valuable practice room was not one of them. Gallerian Marlon, the creator of the theater, only had a decoration room in mind it seemed, perhaps for props in screenplays.

With enough suits of armor and swords varying from plain to fit for royalty; Gallerian had enough armor and weaponry to supply a small task force, and he was just keeping these to keep them? "Unless you would like to spar, Waiter?"

He had already guessed her answer before she even opened her mouth, so it did not surprise him when she replied with "Pfft. I don't do that kind of work, not when others can do it for me."

Gammon gave her a long, hard stare, and she stuck her nose in the air. So they stood there in silence until Gammon sighed and opened the door. "Well if you're just going to stand here and do nothing, as usual, then I'll just go back to doing chores."

He was about to leave the room, when a hand reached forward and grabbed one of the many layers of clothing covering Gammon's back.

"Actually, I think I wouldn't mind teaching you a lesson or two! Me, just imagine-" she sang in a sing-song voice, "beating the famous ex-soldier, Gammon Octo!" She straightened her posture, though puffed out her chest.

Ignoring Waiter with her arrogant gaze trailing him; Gammon walked over to the sword rack and plucked a hand and half sword from the iron holdings.

"Isn't that one a bit boring? I'd rather have a majestic sword," Waiter complained, she flicked her hand out towards another weapon farther down the racks, her finger landing in the exact direction of a tapered broadsword with a jeweled hilt. Gammon's eyes flickered between the large sword and Waiter's petite frame. She eyed the hand and a half sword he testily weighted in his hands as the she came up to him.

He held the blade he selected out for her, waiting for her to pick it back up again. "For practice, only the most basic of swords are needed." She nodded as he continued, "A highly decorated sword can be a hindrance more than a helper."

Waiter's lips pushed forward in a pout, but she snatched the sword out of his hands regardless. She lifted the light sword and swung it clumsily; though Gammon was still surprised at the slight ease and expertise she had performed the action with, no human could do that right off the bat. But then Gammon remembered Waiter's inhuman origins and connection to Riliane, the spoiled princess who undoubtedly had some kind of formal sword training in her time. But was Riliane ever good?

Gammon, already having bent down to grab their swords, leaned to the left and pried open an old chest. With a sigh and huff; Gammon pulled out the worn equipment and blew on it, trying to clear dust that had gathered up and settled upon the surface for years. Standing back up and turning around, he handed Waiter some gear. "Here, the light armor will prevent any serious injury."

One of Waiter's eyebrows lifted in curiosity, not unexpected. "How did you know what was in that?"

"Do you know how much time I've spent in here?" Gammon asked, strapping on his own spar equipment. "I've had plenty of time to figure things out in here." He didn't mention how even after months of practicing and getting a feel for everything in the room; Gammon knew that there were still things in this room he probably hasn't found yet.

But Waiter shrugged, and said in a haughty voice, "I won't need it though, not with my skill."

Shaking his head; Gammon led the girl to the middle of the room. Both of them seemed to notice how easily Gammon towered over her, but Waiter didn't appear intimidated by it. Instead; she stared up at him with confidence shining in her blue eyes and refused to break the eye contact.

"You want to put that on. The swords have been blunted and weakened for years, but no matter how safe the weapon there's still a chance that you could get hurt." He finished strapping on his gear and reached for a katana on the sword rack. "I can go easy on you though, that might help.

When he finished and turned around he saw Waiter's small lips curved into a frown, with a hot gaze boring a challenge into his as she protested, "no, don't go easy on me. I don't want an easy victory!"

Gammon sighed and shifted to a more balanced and combat-friendly position. His eyes narrowed on her as they focused on his target.

And hers did the same, before Riliane launched herself at him, a flash of yellow and white with a gray spearhead determined to stab at Gammon. The war veteran was just barely able to block her as he brought his sword up to shield himself, and then fling her away. But as was the case with Waiter's previous self, her pride was her undoing.

She didn't even make any sound as she moved, although her eyes glowed with a smugness that Gammon knew he could use against her. He stood still and let a serene smile slip across his face. If he could tempt her... There! Gammon threw himself aside and watched as Riliane darted forward again, but only ended up flying past him and onto the ground.

Riliane let out a small whine of frustration, so low and primal that it was almost inaudible to Gammon's finely-tuned ears. She stood with a huff, and spun and stabbed at Gammon, a wild grin stretched the length of her chin. Riliane was trying to end this, both quickly and powerfully.

But Gammon was still stronger, he brought his blade up and parried her, and then launched his own blade outwards. With a grunt; Gammon forced her down with a jab that would sting but not injure her.

"Are we done?" he asked letting his hand relax and letting the tip of his blade rest on the floor. Gammon waited for Waiter's comment demanding a rematch, but it didn't come. Her furious gaze answered him instead.

"Oh, I wonder what's in here?"

Spooked by the comment of an unknown speaker, Gammon raised his sword, ignoring the squeak that rose from Waiter. He spun on a foot and pointed the blade in the direction of the voice.

"Ma?"

The sorceress smiled, even with a blade pointed right at her throat. "Just sparring I see. I'm assuming Gammon won?"

He nodded and flicked his sword through the air to clear it of dust, though it wouldn't have accumulated any. He reached down to pick up Waiter's from where it layed next to her on the ground. "Of course, although, If I may say; I _was _trained in the use of the sword." He glanced down at the still-frustrated girl on the ground. "Waiter lacks the formal training required to best me in a spar." Having grabbed her sword; Gammon rose and carried the weapons back to the rack. "She hasn't had any training at all, really." The swords flashed as the light reached them, conjuring reflections of the two now behind Gammon: Waiter and Ma.

Ma stood there an an amused and intrigued expression, while Waiter's blurred image picked itself up in the reflection. "Ah, I see. I assume your spar is over then?" Ma inquired. Gammon turned to see her handle and adjust the monocle covering one of her violet eyes. "Perhaps I should just continue on my way then," she commented with a lighthearted tone and a playful sparkle to her eyes. Just like that, her demeanor had changed.

"What? No, it's fine-" but Gammon didn't get to finish.

"Such an epic we could make, Gammon." She smiled at him, but turned around and started to slowly step out of the room. "Your story and skills are interesting to others, I could craft such a story out of your tale. Come to the theater room later Gammon, we have work to do!" As she finished her words; Ma glanced over her shoulder at Gammon, winked through her monocle, and departed from the room.

Gammon shook his head as he spoke, "that woman has more peculiarities than anyone else here, is that a surprise?"

No sooner than he said that when he felt a quick jab of pain in his leg as Waiter glared and kicked at him. "By the way, you nearly nicked me earlier when that darned woman showed up!" with venom in her voice, the girl trotted out of the room, leaving Gammon behind.

Such was another day.

* * *

**Did you like it? Hate it? Was it as good as the first or better? Please lemme know through a review~**


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